


From Beginning to End

by houxvertetbruyere



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, From Beginning To End au, I just really like non-supernatural aus, John Knows, M/M, Mary Lives, Mary knows, Non-Supernatural AU, they're so fucked up for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-19 14:29:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22779235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/houxvertetbruyere/pseuds/houxvertetbruyere
Summary: "Dean’s brother comes into the world, eyes shut.The doctor says not to be worried, that this is not unusual for some babies. To give it more time. Mama says Sam will open his eyes when he’s got something worth looking at. Dad says that something is wrong with him. He says they should go to another hospital and talk to more doctors. But when Dean looks at his little brother sleeping in his clear tub, he can’t see anything bad."
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 18
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**1979: Dean is born**

John has been pulling long shifts at the garage lately for some extra cash (Valentine’s is tomorrow and it turns out having a baby is expensive). It’s past midnight when he gets home. All the lights are off as he shuffles through the dark to the nursery where a faint glow spills out from beneath the door. The lamp on top of the dresser casts a light on his sweet wife and the baby boy she’s cradling.

She must have fallen asleep in the rocking chair, Mary, in her white nightgown, long blonde hair all mussed and stuck to the side of her face. Dean’s beady eyes are open and as John looks at his son, the baby yawns. John’s heart swells. He’s wiping his greasy hands on his cover-alls and moving over to give the little guy a kiss when Mary stirs awake.

“Hey there handsome”

“I didn’t mean to wake you but it seems this one was already up,” he says moving to Mary’s side, kissing first her then Dean’s cheek. “You want me to take him, babe?” he asks.

Mary stretches and rearranges the baby in her arms who is beginning to fuss. “Ugh I’d love to but I think Dean-o here needs to eat again. Think you could brew me a cup of tea, though… grease monkey?”

She scrunches her nose but there’s a twinkle in her tired eyes. John laughs. It’s meant as a joke but he could use a shower. Dean starts to cry in earnest, his little legs kicking and fists scrabbling for purchase on Mary’s skin.

As she eases a sore breast out for their son, John takes a moment to memorize this scene. How beautiful his wife really is. What an amazing mother. After everything he’s been through in the marines, with his own father, the love he feels here overwhelms him. ‘You two deserve everything you want,’ he thinks to himself before leaving to put on the kettle.

**1983: Sam is born**

Dean’s brother comes into the world, eyes shut.

The doctor says not to be worried, that this is not unusual for some babies. To give it more time. Mama says Sam will open his eyes when he’s got something worth looking at. Dad says that something is wrong with him. He says they should go to another hospital and talk to more doctors. But when Dean looks at his little brother sleeping in his clear tub, he can’t see anything bad.

“What are you lookin’ at Dean-o?” Mama asks, coming up behind him to watch Sam and everyone else’s babies on the other side of the glass.

“There’s nothing wrong with him, huh?” Dean says, instead of answering. There are fingerprints smudging the window but he can see the rise and fall of Sam’s chest. Dad says that’s what breathing looks like. The pinky-red of Sam’s baby toes flex and stretch as Dean looks on. Dean smiles. “My brother’s perfect.”

Three weeks later when baby Sam still hasn’t opened his eyes, Dad is yelling at someone on the phone in the kitchen. It’s loud and it wakes Sam up from his morning nap. Dean has been playing quietly in his room so he can hear when his brother begins to fuss. Dropping his plastic truck, he’s at Sam’s crib in an instant.

“Hey Sammy, it’s your brother Dean. Don’t cry buddy, I’m here,” Dean whispers “Don’t cry, okay?”

At the sound of Dean’s voice Sam calms. Dean reaches through the bars of the crib to give him his pointer finger to suck on. If he rubs over his brothers gums a little he can stay quiet for awhile longer before Dean needs to get Mama.

Dean starts to hum a lullaby his parents sang to him when he was just a little baby and for the first time, for seemingly no reason at all, Sam blinks his eyes open.

Mama said babies this little can’t see anything but big fuzzy shapes but on that day, when Sam looks up at his big brother for the very first time, he looks right into his brother’s eyes.

The doctor says Sam’s vision is perfect for his age and he will develop just fine. Dad says Sam is stubborn even as a baby and he can’t wait to see what he’ll be like as a teenager. Mama says there’s nothing wrong with wanting to do things your own way. That night she and Dad dance in the kitchen and laugh and kiss a lot. Dean spends the night on the nursery floor beside Sam’s crib, staring at his brother until they both fall asleep.

**1984: Dean starts school**

Dean’s teacher calls 3 hours into the day. It’s so much later than usual that Mary had actually started to hope this was the day Dean outgrew this. When the phone rings just after she’s put Sam down for a nap, all hope that Dean had finally made a friend went out the window.

She sighs.

“Mom?”

“Hey Sweetie.”

“I need to talk to Sammy.”

Sam isn’t even 18 months old yet but he loves to talk. He sounds words out carefully with adults, speaking only when he needs to, being as clear as he knows how. But it’s a different world with Dean. With Dean, Sam comes alive. He babbles and giggles and screeches. His tongue curls around sounds that Mary has never heard before but Dean soaks up every syllable and responds like he understands.

Her boys are so close that Dean has been calling from school to talk to his baby brother at least once a day since he started kindergarten.

“Dean, sweetie, your brother is sleeping right now.”

“Oh, yeah okay,” he says, disappointed, “He should sleep.”

“You know you should be sleeping too, bud, Mr. Singer told me it’s naptime right now.”

“I know. I just- I just don’t sleep good here.”

“You miss your brother when you’re at school, huh?”

“Yeah,” Dean sighs. “Miss ‘im.”

“Well that’s okay. You boys love each other. But you know, it’s good to have some school friends too.”

“Yeah… I know.” Dean yawns and Mary, mother that she is, knows how to use that to her advantage.

“Hey, if you take a nap with the rest of the kids today I’ll take you and Sam to the park before dinner. Sound good?”

“Okay! Bye Mom,” he yawns again and Mary counts it as a win. The boys are so grumpy when they don’t get their naps- even if they don’t sleep very well separately. The phone switches hands.

“Mary?”

“Hi Bobby, how has he been today? You called late.”

“Yeah well, he really got into our craft project. Took his time… we made mini pies.”

Mary laughs and says, “Bobby, I don’t know what we’re gonna do with him.”

Bobby sighs on the other end of the line and tells a student to stay quiet.

“Listen Mary,” he says when he gets back, “I don’t envy you the job of raisin’ those two boys. But Dean here has a good heart, he’ll make friends fast once he opens up. Hell, half the girls are already in love with him- he should have no trouble in that department,” Bobby chuckles. “Just… don’t let John get to you. You know they’re good kids. Ain’t no such thing as loving too much.”

Mary thinks to protest for a moment. Then lets it go. Bobby is right, they are good kids. And they do love each other very much. The only thing she can hope to do is nurture that and keep them safe.

**1988: Sam’s first day of school**

Dean insists on walking Sam to school even though Sam’s kindergarten starts half an hour before Dean’s 4th grade.John can’t help but smile when he listens to them walking in front of him.

“Now, Sammy,” Dean says very seriously, “you gotta listen when Miss Parsons tells you not to run at recess ‘cause she’ll make you stand against the wall if you do and Mr. Gobal, he’s really really fun…”

John tunes them out and gets lost in his thoughts. He has a ‘73 Challenger in the shop that hasn’t been taken care of and it needs a lot of work. If Mary weren’t catering today he would have been in his garage hours ago.

Suddenly they’re at the school and Dean’s looking up at him with big eyes.

“You don’t have to pick us up, Dad. I can walk Sammy home,” he says. His boy is so earnest. Always the little adult.

“You sure, kiddo? I mean, I’d love to get in some work, but-” John rubs his neck, thinking of all the things he could do with an uninterrupted afternoon.

“Yeah, Dad,” Dean answers. “It’s okay. We won’t go to the park or anything, just straight home.”

“Well alright. As long as you go straight home.”

“We will!” Dean, again. Sam doesn’t really talk to John. He’s not sure what it is about the kid but he has a hard time relating to him. Their relationship just isn’t easy like it was with Dean. John thinks maybe it’s because Dean is so like his mother, so open and big hearted. It melts him to the core every time the boy looks up at him with his big green eyes so full of hero worship.

He pats Dean on the back and tells him to have a good day. When he reaches out to do the same with Sam, they’ve already turned away from him, and are walking hand in hand up the school steps. He can faintly hear them talking as he walks back down the block, but his mind is already wondering where to order the parts he needs.

Dean checks up on Sam three times that day and if it weren’t for the fact that their Uncle Bobby is the most Winchester-understanding kindergarten teacher in Kansas, John would have had to hear all about it.

**1994: Dean is 15, Sam is 11**

“So Sam, do you mind explaining to us what on earth happened here?” John asks.

“Baby, what has gotten into you, you’re usually so mild mannered.”

Sam winces under his parents’ disapproval. He’s pretty sure he gets now how Dean feels when he gets in trouble. This may be his first fist-fight, but it’s not Dean’s. To say his brother gets in a lot of fights would be a lie but there’s something about him that just makes kids want to be assholes to him. And Dean doesn’t take shit from anyone. Not even Justin Fischer.

“It was nothing, honestly,” Sam started, “I was just trying to get some homework done while Dean was at baseball practice.”

Dean speaks up. “We were done but Coach pulled the team in for a meeting. This wouldn’t have happened if he weren’t so talkative. I woulda been there.”

Sam interrupts him this time. “That’s when Justin walked out of the gym. He was pissed about something. Dean getting picked for the Varsity team as a Sophomore when Justin, a junior, was turned down, probably didn’t help.”

“That jealous asshole!” Dean bursts out.

John levels him a heavy look. “Dean, language!” Mary smacks him upside the head.

“Sam, what did Justin do to make you mad, hm?”

“Mom, he punched Sammy in the face!” Dean yells.

“He didn’t punch me, Dean, he just like slapped me. He didn’t even know how to slap properly.” Sam adds the last part almost snickering.

“Boys, I’m not finding any of this funny. And neither is your father. I need you to take this seriously. Sheriff Fischer is going to want to talk to you.”

“You broke the boy’s nose pretty good there, Dean-o. Knocked loose a couple of teeth too from what I hear.” John’s scolding but his voice is fond. He had a friendship with Justin’s dad, Randy Fischer but he had no patience with his teenage son.

“Look, Mom, Dad,” Sam starts, “I didn’t do anything to provoke him, he just came up to me and hit me. Started calling me names and trying to hit me again. That’s when Dean came out and just… defended me.” His heart feels heavy and swollen every time he looks over at his brother. Dean is sporting a fat split lip that he keeps swiping his tongue out to lick clean. It makes something swoop in his belly every time. Somehow, it’s as devastating as it is exciting.

In the end Justin gets a week of detentions and has to apologize to the Winchesters for “attacking” their boys. It’s almost comical when he shows up at their door Friday evening with a purple eye, wrapped nose, and gauze shoved up in his mouth. He looks thoroughly whooped and Sam can’t tell if John is going to burst out yelling or laughing.


	2. Chapter 2

**1996: Dean's girlfriend**

It seems Mary's oldest got himself a girlfriend and her youngest is… less than thrilled about it. Sam has always been a bit jealous, possessive of Dean's attention in a way that leaves her bemused most of the time. 

Dean and Emily have already been out twice this week and John has agreed to let Dean take the Impala out on Sunday for a date at the drive-in.

"It's about time her back seat gets some use," John jokes over dinner. Dean's neck and ears go pink as his dad teases. Mary glances at Sam who has gone stock still, his face pinched in disgust.

"Honey, don't be gross, the boys don't want to hear about this," Mary chides. "They’re teenagers. Besides," she adds, just for the hell of it, "if I'm remembering right it was pretty cramped and sweaty back there."

John bursts out laughing and reaches across the table to grab at her hand. 

"Hey I don't remember getting any complaints," he says, low and dark. "'Course when we were his age we were a bit more flexible."

"I'm gonna barf!" Dean says. "Come on guys get a room!" At the same time Sam forcefully pushes his chair back and stomps off to the kitchen.

She spares a moment to wonder whether it's worth yelling after him to rinse his dishes.

John grins and gives Mary his bedroom eyes. Says, "Oh we've got a room. We've got the whole damn house!"

Sam slams the door to his and Dean's bedroom. Mary thinks Dean might have gone off to talk to his brother through the door but she's preoccupied kissing her sweetheart at the moment.

\---

It isn't until later on when Sam won't leave his room to watch a movie with them that Mary starts to put stock in his moodiness. 

She plays back his recent bout of temper tantrums. How Dean complained he was "getting the cold shoulder" from Sam at school, how Sam would walk home from school by himself rather than wait for Dean.

It all started when Dean first asked out Emily.

Sam definitely isn’t taking this sharing-Dean-thing very well. Maybe she should have a talk with her youngest. Explain that this sort of thing would happen more often now that Dean was older. That it didn't mean his brother loved him any less. 

There is a spot next to Dean on the floor where Sam would usually be. Dean has even left half of the blanket for him. Mary keeps getting distracted from the plot (if there is any, John's turn to pick out the movie had produced something with more explosions than dialogue) by Dean fidgeting and glancing long ways at his bedroom door.

Honestly, she's a little relieved when Dean gets up halfway through the movie to search out Sam.

\---

Much later, when the TV is off and John is snoring on the other side of the couch, when Mary's dozing with her toes shoved under her husband’s thigh, her boys finally emerge from their room. 

It's so late she only half pretends to sleep while watching them through slitted eyes.

Sam's eyes and nose are red, his cheeks blotchy. He's been crying, that much is clear. She can't see Dean's face but can hear that melted-out, gooey tone he uses when bandaging up Sam's scrapes or reading softly to him on a long drive. Intimate.

She hears him talking low while scooping out a bowl of ice cream. Says something that makes Sam quirk a smile, though she can't hear the words. Whatever it was, it makes Sam slide over and wrap his arms around Dean's waist. Prompts Dean to lean down and kiss the top of Sam's head, lean down further and-

Her breath catches. Suddenly she's wide awake.

She can't be sure, really. It's late and she's been half asleep. But it… It looks like her sons are kissing in her kitchen on a Friday night. 

They stay like that for a few long moments. When they break apart Dean keeps his hand low on Sam’s back.

Sam grabs a spoon and the boys head back to their room. 

Mary lays awake the rest of the night thinking about love and free will.

\---

When Sunday rolls around Dean takes  _ Sam _ to the drive-in, saying that he and Emily have split up, that he's done dating for awhile. Mary tosses them the keys to the Impala and tells them to have fun. 

Over dinner Monday John cracks a joke about he and Mary needing to get busy in the old car's back seat since no one else around here seems up to it. Dean yells, "Dad!" and Sam just rolls his eyes.

Mary just smiles.

**1997: Dean graduates**

Dean is finally 18, done with high school forever (hallelujah) and one of only a few kids in his class sticking around town.

Honestly, he just doesn't feel the need to waste a bunch of money going somewhere out of state when Lawrence has a community college right in town. Plus Dad just gave him the keys to the sleek, black, sexy as hell 67 Chevy Impala that he's loved since he was a kid. It'd be hell on her undercarriage to drive her across the country somewhere.

And then there’s Sam… he's not attached at the hip or anything. He has his own life. It's just… the kid needs him around for like, emotional support. Or whatever. So what if Sammy happens to be, like, Dean's favorite person in the world? That's just one tiny factor in Dean's decision.

Mom insists on a graduation party the Saturday after the cap and gown ceremony. Uncle Bobby and Aunt Karen are there, Aunt Ellen and Uncle Bill drive down with Jo -who mostly follows Sam around- talking about poetry or braiding each other's hair or whatever. Nerds.

A few of Dean's teammates come around later on, too and invite him to tag along on their cross country road trip. Apparently they've got a camper van and a whole bunch of graduation money for weed and gas. It sounds cool and all but he's got his own summer plans and they don't involve getting a DUI in Nevada.

It's almost 5 when he says goodbye to the last of the family friends and Dean feels weird and prickly.

"Heya nerd," he says, collapsing next to Sam on the porch swing. Sam just grunts and swings his dirty bare feet up into Dean's lap for a rub. Dean sort of feels like he wants to pick a fight but he digs his thumbs into the arch of Sam's long foot anyway. He grins when he gets a nasally groan for his efforts. 

"Hey so, now that everyone's gone, wanna go for a drive?"

Sam looks up at him from under the arm he’d thrown over his eyes like a primadona. But stays silent.

"Maybe out to the lake? Do some star gazing?"

There's a tight feeling in his chest. Too much attention from too many people, probably. Dean's never been great at being in the spotlight. Right now he wants some quiet, the impala underneath him, and Sammy riding shotgun. Maybe share a couple of beers on the roof, after. That would be pretty awesome.

"Can we bring the tent?" Sam asks. 

Dean licks his lips. Swallows. "What, you wanna camp?" Sam nods. 

Dean likes the idea more by the second. Drive out to the woods, build a fire, get drunk, and camp overnight. They only have one small tent from childhood; when Dad took them hunting he made them sleep under the stars, "build character". It would probably be tight quarters now with how big Sam's gotten. Why does the thought of Sam growing up make Dean’s heart feel swollen?

"Sure," he answers, giving Sam's toes one last squeeze. "You wanna load up the car and I’ll go pack our stuff?"

Sam nods, looking more awake now, and hops off the porch.

\---

The sun is just set by the time they've got the tent set up and a fire going. Mom had made sure to feed them before they left and had packed up half a strawberry-rhubarb pie, too. Dad had warned him (again) not to get a scratch on the car but had also winked and handed him an unopened bottle of Jim Beam.

They'd pulled the tent as close to the fire as Dean would allow and are now laying side by side on their sleeping bags facing the flames.

Dean's about a quarter of the way through the whiskey. Sammy's even taken a few gulps, though he pinches his face in disgust each time he swallows.

Now that it’s fully dark, Sam rolls to his back and looks up at the stars. His breath is moist and alcoholic on Dean’s face when he says, "Hm, there's Lupus… so that means… aha! Ursa Minor!" He points straight up through the canopy of pine.

Dean doesn't bother to follow the line of his arm. Just looks down at his brother. The firelight makes Sam's hair glow honey-gold and sets dramatic shadows down his face. He's strikingly pretty right now and Dean can’t look away.

"Little bear," Dean murmurs. "Remember when I used to call you that?"

Sam's eyes flit to Dean's face, his mouth.

"Yeah," Sam says, quiet, matching Dean. "Not so little anymore, though, huh?" He grins.

"Hmm," Dean hums but doesn’t return his smile, just licks his lips and reaches out. He skates fingertips across Sam's cheek, down Sam's nose, to his chapped lower lip -tracing shadows. 

Sam's breath catches and his gaze locks with Dean's.

Familiar heat grips at Dean’s lower belly. How has Sam always been this goddamn magnetic?

It feels like he's pulled forward, like it’s completely out of his hands, when Dean leans in to kiss his baby brother’s mouth. Sam's huff of an exhale the only sound over the rushing in his ears. And then Sam’s pulling Dean over him, on top of him, and pushing up into the kiss. 

He eats at Sam's mouth lapping in behind his teeth, stroking his bitten lips. He sucks the sweet strawberry syrupy spit off of Sam’s tongue and Sam  _ groans, _ grinding up into Dean’s thigh.

"Shit," Dean gasps. "Shit, you’re so hard."

"So’re you," Sam slurs, kissing and sucking Dean’s jaw.

And he's right. And maybe some of it's the whiskey but Dean's fucking  _ dizzy _ with how hard he is. The fire pops above their heads and Dean tongues at Sam's bottom lip, rubs off against his hip. 

Dean has no plan for this, no hand on the reigns at all. He's felt tight and bursting at the seems all weekend without a chance to get his hands on Sam. He's lost in the sounds Sam is making. Whining puppy noises and guttural grunt as he humps Dean’s hip and let his big brother plunder his mouth.

And fuck but Dean is hurdling toward an orgasm. It’s almost embarrassing how quick.

"Shit," he hisses again. "'M gonna  _ come _ .  _ Sammy _ ."

His face shoved into Sam’s neck, he groans and grinds out an explosive orgasm, come spreading wet in his jeans. For several long moments he sees white.

Christ, they haven’t even taken their pants off.

He catches his breath quickly and scrambles up on his knees. Makes room so he can unbutton Sam’s pants and pull his dick out. Has to get it out, has to see it and make Sam come.

Sam's dick is fucking  _ covered _ in slick. Wet and hot, it makes a good satisfying handful as dean wraps fingers around it and pulls. 

"Dean!" Sam whines. A shocky gasp. He's dug his fingers into Dean’s shirt on his back, is pulling so hard Dean's actually starting to choke. But it doesn't matter, a few good firm tugs and a wicked little rub of his calloused thumb over Sam's sticky slit, Sammy's fucking coming like freight train.

His baby brother comes like he's being electrocuted -with his head thrown back, body tense, not breathing. His eyes are scrunched up so hard he has to be seeing stars on the back of his lids. And he's the prettiest goddamn sight of Dean's 18 years.

"Fuck," he gasps after a long moment of just riding the current. "Fuck, Dean."

Dean's just hovering over him, one hand still holding his wet (fucking sloppy) dick. He pushes Sam's hair out of his eyes with his clean hand and watches the kaleidoscope irises come back from blown pupils. Sam looks like he does in all Dean's sweetest wet dreams and a throbby pulse of heat zings to Dean’s eyes. He blinks back the tears and sniffs.

He smears his filthy come-covered hand on Sam’s pants and rearranges them so they can make out some more until they fall asleep. 

Christ, who is he kidding? Dean's so gone for this kid.


	3. Chapter 3

**2000: Sam gets accepted to Stanford**

John bids his guys goodnight and heads out into the November chill. 

He's got a long weekend off ahead of him. Got the luxury of giving himself a few days with Mary now that the garage is fully staffed. And he's got plans alright. They've got tickets to a CCR show Saturday night and he's stashed a few growlers of Mary's favorite hard cider. He plans to wine and dine his very fine wife and to do that he's gonna need to get Sam out of the house for a few days.

A few weeks ago that wouldn't have been an issue. Sam's been practically living at Dean's since his oldest moved out a couple years back. But then Sam got his early acceptance letter to Stanford (full ride, Jesus his kid's smart) and the only one who _wasn't_ thrilled was Dean. God only knows why but they've been fighting ever since.

John hoists himself into his truck and rubs a hand down his face. Raising kids is a young man's game and he honestly isn't sure how he's made it this far without ending up in the nuthouse. 

The truck rumbles on. He starts toward Dean's apartment to see if he can talk some sense into the boy. Maybe the boys can call a truce just for the weekend. John's sanity relies on it.

His mind has wandered to some back-ordered carburetors and by the time he's climbing the wooden stairs to Dean's he's on autopilot. The shouting coming from behind the door is too familiar and pulls him out of his head fast.

It's Sam he can hear first.

"Why are you being such a victim about this!? Is it 'cause you never finished school!? Why can't you be happy for me!?" John stops outside to listen. Best not to interrupt when Sam's this raging. He learned that the hard way.

"Oh, you don't think I'm happy for you!? Christ, Sammy, I'm over the fucking moon okay? I knew you were a genius, I've always known, and now California gets to see it too. You're gonna leave and get everything you’ve ever wanted and you deserve it Sammy. You deserve to be so fucking happy. And I am not gonna stand in your way."

"Stand in my- Dean what the fuck are you talking about, I want you to come with me! Why are you being like this -you knew I wanted this! I thought you did too!"

There’s a shuffling and someone (sounds like Dean) passes behind the door and goes into the kitchen. Shitty place like this you can hear everything.

"Sam you- you're gonna go and do great things but… We've never been more than 5 minutes apart! You don't know anything else! As soon as you get a taste of the big wide world you're gonna be too-"

"Shut the fuck up." Sam interrupts him, low and deadly. John's shocked. It's the kind of tone Sam's leveled at John one or two times but never ever Dean.

Dean tries to talk again but Sam cuts him off again. John can hear him crossing into the kitchen that he knows is a dead end. Dean will be trapped. Sam is stalking him like an animal.

"Shut your goddamn mouth Dean. You don’t get to tell me what I want. I know what I want and it's you." He sounds dark and terrible. Close to crying, John ventures. Fuck maybe he should have called first.

"I want you, you stupid fucking idiot. I've only ever wanted you and you don't get to tell me otherwise just because you're fucking- scared!" There’s a gasp, the sound of a cabinet door slamming shut.

"I- Sammy you know I want you, too." Dean is quiet but the door is thin and John can hear more than he’d like. Dean whispers emphatically, "I love you. I love you so much." 

There's a long silent pause and John catches himself leaning in to hear better.

"Why do you love me?" Sam asks, low.

Dean huffs and says, "I love you 'cause you need love. I love you because when you look at me I feel like a hero."

" _You_ need love. To be loved." Sam says. John's not imagining the smile in his son's voice. He knows it too well. A vicious little victory smile that says Sam's getting his way.

"And I love you. So fucking much, Dean. I love you because you could be with anybody else but you still want to be with me." John strains into the silence to hear shuffling, fabric rustling.

Then wet sounds, like kissing, come next. Christ, he shouldn't be so surprised at this, should he? They’d always been a little closer than he thought brothers should but... John's an only child. Who is he to say what's "too close"? Now it feels like a punch to the gut. Like there's been a neon sign hanging over his boys for years. 

"Come," Sam groans and it's clear he's not talking about 'coming' to Stanford anymore. "Come with me, big brother." John gulps. What the fuck.

"Baby," Dean groans, "that’s no fair. Christ, Sammy."

John hauls ass down the stairs and into his truck.

When he gets home he hits the bottle immediately and is the fun kind of tipsy when Mary finds him spread out in the love-seat. 

Things turn hot and hazy for awhile after that. Mary proves her knees are as good as they ever were when she rides him in the chair. 

He proves he can still eat her out 'til she screams.

\---

They're dozing on the big sectional, house silent save for the clanking of the registers pumping heat, when John allows himself to think again. It comes tumbling out before he can consider whether he ought to spare his wife this particular heartache.

"Stopped by Dean's on the way home," he says. "Sam’s there."

"Oh?" Mary hums. 

"Stayed outside, though. They were in a shouting match.” He's not sure how to say what he heard through that door. The words won't surface easily. "At first, anyway. But then they uh… made up. Uh, with a lot of groaning and cussing."  
  
" _Oh._ " Mary says. "Well thank god they finally made up. They were driving me crazy. Sorry you had to hear it get heated, though. Kind of scars you the first time, doesn't it?"

John gapes at the ceiling then turns to face her. 

"What- You- You _knew_?! And we’re not stopping them!?" He might be shouting. 

Mary turns her "you’re on thin ice" glare on him. 

"John Winchester, they're my only babies," she says, as if that's an explanation. "And they're good kids, aren't they? They take care of each other?"

He's forced to agree.

"And they're really good together. You've seen how they've been the past couple of weeks fighting. Dean won't come to family dinner, Sam won't leave his room, neither of them have been sleeping... Look, they're capable of making their own decisions and they love each other very much. Don't shame them, John. Not for this." 

She's glaring at him, dead serious. He has to blink at the ceiling some more to process this.

"Besides," Mary says, wrapping an arm around his middle and resting her head on his shoulder, "let's not look a gift horse in the mouth. How great is it to have the house to ourselves again?"

He throws his head back and laughs.

  
**2001: Sam leaves for Stanford**

After everything (after fucking _everything_ ) Dean’s not coming with him to California. 

"Get one year on your own and then tell me you still want me like this, Sammy."

Sam could scream. 

Sam _has_ screamed. Just last night, in fact, he screamed at Dean so much and so loudly that the deaf old lady who lives below Dean's shitty apartment banged on the door and threatened to call the cops. 

Sam could scream and then puke and then cry himself to sleep again. But he has a plane to catch.

He fiddles with the strap of his messenger bag.

Dad pulls him into a hug at the gate and tells him, "I’m prouder than hell o'you Sam." He tries to feel it when he hugs back.

When it's Mom's turn he bends down so she can kiss his cheek. She holds him tight and says, "I know you don't think so right now but your brother loves you, baby." Sam scoffs and tries to pull away but she keeps him in place. Hands on his shoulders. 

"Samuel, in his own way he really is trying to show you love. And I think you know that." Sam flushes red. If Dean really loved him he’d be here right now, he thinks bitterly. He can see Dad over Mom's head but the image is getting blurry. Shit. Not again.

He swipes his sleeve over his eyes. It comes away wet.

Mom pulls him in tight again and then Dad comes up and wraps his arms around the both of them for a long family hug.

When he pulls back both his parents have tears in their eyes.

"I love you guys," he says and really means it. "I'll call when I land."

His plane is boarding. He has to go. 

Sam doesn't scream or puke but as soon as he's seated he pulls his sunglasses and headphones on and cries himself to sleep.

\---

He calls Mom from his dorm room landline and gives her his number. She asks if she can give the number to anyone else and Sam somehow knows she doesn't mean Uncle Bobby. He says sure.

Still, he isn't expecting a call from Dean anytime soon. Certainly not as he's still unpacking. 

"Hello?"

"Sammy?" Dean croaks. Good, Sam thinks for a vicious second, hope he's been fucking crying.

"What do you want?" He growls.

"Sammy I- I'm sorry I didn't come see you off. I didn't sleep and I- I don't like what how it ended up last night." Dean sighs down the phone line. He actually sounds terrible and Sam wants to hold on to that rage but finds he can't in the face of Dean's misery. Fuck.

Sam takes a deep breath and sighs.

"Yeah… well. Me either." He won't say told you so. Won't say it's your fault you stupid idiot. It wouldn't do anyone any good. And it's nice to hear Dean's voice in this strange place so far from home.

After a beat Dean's throat clicks as he swallows.

"So what's your room situation?" Dean asks. "Size of a shoe box?"

Sam snorts. "Yeah and still somehow bigger than your place. Smells about the same though. Like ass."

Dean laughs and God it's like… actually really good to hear.

"Shut up twerp, you love my ass." 

"Whatever, man. Fuck you." Sam laughs. He grins because no one's there to see him.

"Oh yeah? You want to?" Dean purrs. "This a public phone, Sammy?" Sam's grin falls as his pulse jumps. He has to swallow before speaking.

"Uh, no. No it's- They're all private numbers. For all the rooms. Just can't do, like, out of country calls."

Dean hums. "So you're in your room. You on your bed?"

Sam shivers.

"I can be."

"You, uh- you wanna do this? 'Cause I know you're mad at me but it'd be really good to hear you come right now." Dean's voice is that low sexy growl he gets when he's turned on but it wavers. It makes Sam double take. Dean had been so sure that Sam needed this year away but now he sounds just as hurt and lost as Sam feels.

"Um, yeah," Sam starts. "I'm on the bed now. Just in my soccer shorts and uh, your Steppenwolf tee." A little embarrassing to admit but it's not like Dean doesn't already know Sam took a handful of his clothes. Isn't like they haven't been sharing clothes for years now anyway.

"Yeah," Dean sighs. "That’s good, that one looks good on you. I'm just in my boxers. Haven't uh, gotten out of bed yet." Dean laughs a little humorlessly. Sam looks at the clock- it's 5pm in Lawrence. 

"I’m already half hard," Dean sighs, "just from talking to you."

Over the phone, Sam hears a shaky inhale and rustling sheets in the background. 

"Yeah, I'm- I'm hard, too. I'm gonna, just-" he breaks off so he can shove a hand down his shorts and rub over his balls. He only has one hand to do this so he forgoes getting a couple of fingers inside himself like he wants to and just strokes up his cock. He's starting to leak. 

"I’m all wet already, Dean." He whispers.

Dean groans loudly and Sam imagines what he looks like. 

Dean would be laid back in his bed with his pink mouth open and panting. His throat would be sweaty and exposed, his dark freckled shoulders fading down to his pale white belly. The golden hair on his chest that leads down past his navel into a darker thatch would be covered by his boxers. Sam imagines they're the dark green ones he likes best. Dean jerks off with his right hand and usually uses his left to rub all over his body. When he gets turned on everything lights up, everywhere's an erogenous zone. 

Sam pants and readjusts his grip to stroke himself better.

"You jerking off yet, Dean?" Sam asks, tugging in long firm pulls, sliding over the head of his dick with his thumb to catch and spread his precum. There's always so much of it. Dean likes to make him slurp it off his fingers sometimes.

"Yeah. Leaking, too. Fuck, don't even need lube." Dean is panting. Sam can hear the fast slick sounds of Dean jerking off. Faster than Sam likes for himself.

"Ugh, Dean. Wish I had, like, one of those headsets," Sam grunts, "for the phone. Want my hands free. Wanna get something in me."

"Shit!" Dean pants. "Yeah baby I should get you one. You can stuff yourself with a dildo while you jerk yourself. Still talk to me, let me hear you get off.” Sam picks up speed. His orgasm's building fast. Pure tension release. He's going to come before it actually gets good. 

"God, Dean. Don't want the dildo." He jerks himself faster and arches his back. Shoves the top of his head into his pillow. He's white-knuckling the phone and it creaks in his fist. 

"Just want you. Want you in me, your mouth on me. Wanna taste you when I come. Your spit, your sweat, your fucking _jizz_."

Dean sobs out, "Sam!" and suddenly Sam's trembling over his climax. 

He can hear Dean coming too, moaning out "Sam, Sam, Sam" but Sam can't talk. He's tense all over and still shaking as his dick spurts another shot of jizz over his knuckles.

His fist is soaked. His fingers might even be pruny. It's all over his shorts and his just-cleaned bedspread, too. Sam can't stop shaking. He feels off. Not being able to smell Dean's sweat, his breath. Not worrying about Dean rubbing his come-dirty hand through Sam's hair. 

He closes his eyes and counts his breaths. Slows them out so he can unclench his muscles.

Pulls his hand out of his shorts and grimaces.

"Was it as good for you as it was for me?" Dean jokes. Sam doesn't laugh but then, neither does Dean.

They just breathe together on the phone for a long moment.

Then Sam says, "I gotta clean up before someone comes in. I have a roommate moving in today." It's true but really he feels like this phone call across thousands of miles is at once too close and way too far. It's kinda freaking him out.

"Okay. Call me later if you want." Dean says in a small voice. "Dad gave me the weekend off. A three-day, actually." Sam's itchy. Wants to scratch but has no free hands. 

"I will. Bye, Dean."

"Love you, Sammy." Dean breathes. It pulls Sam up short for a minute even though it shouldn't. It's not that he thought Dean didn't love him anymore or something it's just...

"Yeah, I- I love you, too. Always." Sam hangs up quickly before he can start crying again and washes his hands in the little sink in his room. 

There's a small mirror above it that he avoids, too scared to see his reflection.

He's all cleaned up and sitting on his bed looking through his course schedule when the door to his room opens. 

A boy with cropped brown hair and a wide smile walks in with a suitcase and a duffel over his shoulder.

Sam gets up to give him a hand.

"Hey man. I'm Sam."

"Hey, Sam," The boy shakes his hand firm, business-like. "I'm Brady."

Sam takes his suitcase for him and Brady drops his duffel on the empty bed. 

"So I know I should unpack but I am starving, dude. You wanna hunt down a burger with me?" Brady asks.

Sam agrees fast.

\---

"So," Brady says, half an hour later, through a mouth full of fries, "is your boyfriend back in Kansas, too?"

Sam chokes on his coke. It doesn't come out of his nose but it's a near thing. His eyes water from the sting of it.

"My what?" He croaks. Like, it's California, sure, but it's been like an hour since he met the guy. Jesus.

Brady looks sheepish and rubs the back of his neck.

"I, um, I actually came up to the room earlier and heard you on the phone." Sam's eyes widen in horror. "I went back to the lobby once I realized what was going on but I heard, yunno… you said the name Dean?" Brady's cautious with this information. Quiet in the diner. But he looks earnest and open when he meets Sam's eyes.

Sam relaxes a little bit. His cheeks are going pink at the thought of being overheard but… maybe he could work with this. 

"Um, yeah, Dean. He's my- my boyfriend. In Kansas. Is that- are you okay with that? You don't want to, like, switch rooms?” Sam hazards. Brady doesn't look like the type to make a fuss about this but you never know.

Brady scoffs and goes back to his chili fries. "Man are you kidding? I don't care about that. I got a cousin that's gay. Lives in Vancouver with his partner. And he's cool, helped me with my entrance essays, actually. Plus, I don't have to worry about you hooking up on my bed or whatever since you guys are long distance. Works out for me!"

Sam is honestly bemused. This is not how he expected his first day at Stanford to go. Of course, he never expected to be doing it alone at all. But still, Brady seems like the best case scenario for a non-Dean roommate. He even said he's a chemistry major, something about going into pharmaceuticals, which means he'll be studying as hard as Sam.

"So is Dean going to school back home or something? The long distance romance thing must suck." Brady says. 

"It's kind of a long story," Sam starts. "But the gist is that we grew up together, y'know, small town. We were always in each others' pockets and we haven't ever really been apart. And Dean's got this like, complex about it for some reason. He's four years older and sometimes he acts like, all-knowing or some shit. He just…" Sam falls off, looking for the words.

"He was going to move out here with me. We had a whole plan about where we were gonna stay, where he'd work, all of it. But I guess maybe it was more my plan than his. We got in a big fight, he told me I need to go live in the 'real world' for a year and if I still wanna be with him after that… then he'll move out here with me."

Brady considers this for a moment. Just stirring a fry in ketchup. 

"So, you've really never been apart before?" He asks cautiously.

"No, not really. I went to science camp every summer in middle school and he went on hunting trips with Dad- _his_ dad- and my Uncle Bobby sometimes. But other than that…" Sam's heart thuds hoping his misstep goes unnoticed. 

"Well I hate to say it but maybe Dean's right?" Brady says it with a little wince, like he thinks he might get yelled at. "Like maybe this can be your Rumspringa? You know, like the Amish do? You can have your wild year and then you can be sure that Dean's like The One?"

Sam blinks at his new roommate for a minute. He knows there's logic in this argument, okay? It's not like he thinks Dean's wrong really. It's just… Sam has no interest in anyone else. Never has. He knows Dean is the only one for him. Bone deep like it's written into his DNA (and, heh, is that an incest joke?). A year apart isn't going to change that.

Sam shakes his head and says all this to Brady (minus the incest).

Brady looks thoughtful as he drinks his lemonade.

"Alright, well, just like put a sock on the door next time you want to have loud gay phone sex." Brady quips with a raised brow.

Sam almost chokes again. He throws one of his own fries at the boy instead.

**2002: Dean’s birthday**

Dean wakes up on his birthday to the phone on his nightstand ringing shrilly. 

Sun is coming through the bottom of his heavy curtains at just the right angle to tell him it's around 10. He has lunch plans with Bobby and he didn't plan on waking up one minute earlier than he had to. 

He squints hard at the phone.

He recognizes the caller ID. Shit. He fumbles for the phone and nearly drops the thing.

"Sammy?"

"Happy birthday, Dean!" It's Sam and two other voices. One of which he thinks is Sam's roommate, Brady.

"You partying without me, Sam?" He asks. It's been way too easy to forget he's the one that pushed Sam away. The kid forgave him very quickly once he got out there and has been acting like Dean didn't explicitly tell him to date around. Like they're just regular long distance boyfriends. 

Sam must have him on speakerphone, there's a buzzing in the background.

"Nah," Sam says, easily, "just drinking coffee with Brady and Jess, you remember his girlfriend? You've talked before, when I called on Christmas. They heard it was your birthday and wouldn't give it a rest until I called you." Sam sounds good. Light. 

"Yeah I think I remember her. Super smart, way too hot for your lame roommate, right?" Dean says. He's smiling and he thinks for a moment that it's way too early to be in this good of a mood.

"Hey! I resemble that remark!" Brady yells in mock-indignation at the same time Dean can hear Jess start to cackle.

"I knew I liked your boyfriend, Sam," Jess laughs. Brady grumbles.

There's a click that must be Sam taking him off speakerphone because suddenly Sam's voice is close and sultry.

"Happy birthday, babe," Sam says in that velvet-sex tone that makes Dean breathless.

In the background he hears "Get a room!" but Sam ignores it and keeps going.

"You know what I would do if I were there with you right now?" Sam purrs. An image flashes to Dean's mind from this past summer. Sam on his back in Dean's bed, naked, flushed from the tips of his ears to his pink-brown nipples. Sam biting his lip, looking up at him under his lashes. Coquettish. Dean groans.

"You’re killing me, baby boy," Dean whispers as if he’s still on speaker. "Tell me, what would you do?"

Sam hums and drops his voice even lower. 

"I'd kiss you, lick your lips, then push your ass out of bed and make you take me out to breakfast." Sam laughs. "I'm a starving college student, after all."

Dean laughs with him and rubs the heel of his palm over his half-mast dick. 

"Yeah well," Dean starts, "we'll see what we can do about that next semester, huh?" It's the first time he's voiced the possibility, scratch that, probability that he'll be with Sam come sophomore year. Sam doesn't miss it.

"Yeah," Sam rushes out in a breath. "I expect you to make it up to me with many pancakes and cups of shitty diner coffee." Sam sounds positively giddy.

"Uh, but right now we gotta get to class. Can I call you later?" Sam asks.

"Duh," as if Sam needs to ask. "Got lunch with Bobby but I should be back around like, noon your time. Call me after your World Econ lecture." It is not embarrassing that he's got Sam's schedule memorized. It's just like, brotherly duty.

Dean says goodbye to Brady and Jess, gets a "Love you" in to Sam and hangs up. He grabs the lube as he puts the phone back in it's charging base. 

Every conversation with Sam leaves him at least half hard lately. It's been months of his own right hand and Sam's voice getting him off. It's like Pavlovian now, alright?

Dean strokes himself for a few long, lovely moments before he stops and thinks of the red glass dildo in his underwear drawer. He licks his lips. He's got plenty of time. And it is his birthday after all. Yeah, he's gonna take his time.

**2002: Fall semester starts**

John would never want it to show that he’s been crying about his oldest moving to California but Mary knows.

Mary let John get into his cups and start waxing on about his babies growing up and moving away. The tears had flowed.

Of course it bites at her a bit. That her sons are so far away. But Dean has been looking forward to this day for an entire year. She learned long ago that her children's happiness was her happiness too. 

Mary is more proud than melancholic right now. She loads the last of the boxes into the impala and shuts the door. John had tried to talk Dean into leaving the car here and taking one of the shop's trucks instead. He pretended it was for the sake of the car, driving it across country, but really it was collateral. 

He was afraid his sons wouldn't come back once Sam was done with school. 

Honestly, Mary knows that they might not move back to Lawrence. She's fine with that. She _does_ make Dean promise to bring Sam home for holidays and breaks, though. 

"It's been a long year without my baby and I won't stand for any more of these split Christmases, Dean." She hopes he gets it. 

Dean promises his father one more time to check the car over himself at every rest stop, to call every Sunday, to never drink cheap whiskey because "life's too short".

Mary holds Dean tight for a long hug and he doesn't put up a fight.

Long after his car is out of view, she takes her sentimental fool of a husband inside to distract him for awhile.

\---

Four months later, when her boys come home for Christmas, it starts snowing. When they step out of the car and stretch they look tired but they're grinning.

She hugs Sammy ("It's Sam now Mom") for as long as he'll let her.

"Don't you ever think about staying away that long again, young man." She scolds even though she knows he won't.

They're just as they always were, anticipating each other's every move, word, and mood. Like a single person split into two bodies. But something has shifted and she doesn't know what. It's like something between them has finally settled into place.

The boys wake up early the next day to cut down a Christmas tree. When they come back with one in the bed of the pickup their cheeks and mouths are pink. Sam has snow down the front of his shirt and Dean has somehow lost a glove. They're grinning like idiots.

On Christmas Eve Dean helps her brine the wild turkey (John brought it back from a hunting trip, crowing about providing for his family, she rolled her eyes and told him not to get blood in her house when he gutted it) and Sam strings lights up around the living room. They both decorate the tree while she hands them ornaments.

It's not until Christmas morning that she actually catches it. 

They've opened their presents and are lounging comfortably around the living room waiting for dinner to cook. She's got a coffee (with a splash of rum) and has her legs up in John's lap in the love-seat. The boys got him the DVD set of Band of Brothers which is now playing quietly on the TV while the boys themselves take up the whole couch, sprawled over each other and legs intertwined.

Sam is fiddling with it, which is probably what calls Mary’s attention to it. 

On his left ring finger, a little too loose, is Dean's wide silver band. The one he's worn since high school.

She swallows down the questions the sight brings up. "What does this mean? Was there a proposal? When did this happen?" and takes another sip of coffee.

She just smiles and when she catches Dean's eye a moment later, he smiles back.

He looks down at Sam, then and it's no surprise that as always, Sam only has eyes for Dean.

She relaxes further into the arm rest. They'll tell her when they're ready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading <3 
> 
> The film From Beginning to End, while beautiful didn't give me much to work with in the way of plot. They just sort of go on loving each other without shame and with a brief stint of long-distance in the middle. 
> 
> I tried to punch that part up with a bit of tension to resolve but it's basically all fluff.


End file.
